


Bast Laid Plans

by Pegasus_Eridana



Category: Ancient Egyptian Religion, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2245707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus_Eridana/pseuds/Pegasus_Eridana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving what he thinks is a distress call from Dean, Castiel goes to investigate, and runs into someone far more powerful than he had imagined. Long story short, he ends up a kitten, and it seems that only true love can save the day...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bast Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> This was another anonymous tumblr prompt, and I loved writing it. I actually wrote it by hand on the ferry between the UK and Ireland a few weeks ago, but I've only just got round to typing it up because I am the worst. 
> 
> Ismene_Jane, on the other hand, is the best, and did a wonderful job of editing and telling me whenever I used British words that apparently do not exist in American. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Castiel stepped cautiously into the abandoned warehouse. He looked around for some sign of Sam or Dean. Castiel had received a text from Dean stating the address of the warehouse and a plea to “get your feathery butt over here and help us out.”

However, when neither Dean nor his brother appeared, Castiel took a firm hold of his angel blade, concerned that the Winchesters had encountered and been overpowered by the witch that they were investigating.

Castiel’s thought process was rudely interrupted by a bright flash of light and the sudden inability to move his limbs. He was frozen in place, hand still tightly gripping his blade, but unable to wield it.

A beautiful woman appeared from the shadows in front of him. She had golden-brown skin, long sleek black hair, and cat-like eyes, glowing green in the dim light.  Castiel realised immediately that this was no witch. She was too powerful, and, it felt, too _old._ The woman laughed.

“You are perceptive, little angel,” she purred. “I am no mere _witch_. You stand in the presence of Bastet, cat-goddess of Ancient Egypt, but you can call me Bast!” She paused for a moment, evidently waiting for some kind of reaction from Castiel. Seeing as he was both angry and frozen, he resolved not to humour her. After a moment, she slumped, looking a little disappointed, then continued to speak. “Do not even think for a second that you can best me, even if your little human pets arrive before I’ve finished with you.”

Bast saw Castiel’s expression, and if that wasn’t obvious enough, she could evidently also read his thoughts and she answered his unspoken question almost before it had formed coherently in his mind.

“Yes, that text was from me,” Bast said, looking far too pleased with herself. “I admit, it took me a while to understand all these modern inventions – I imagine you had the same problem, no? – but it didn’t take long before the deed was done and you were rushing to the aid of your darling Winchester boy.” She stopped for a moment (digging more deeply into Castiel’s mind if the itchy, uncomfortable feeling in his brain was anything to go by) and then burst out laughing, husky and delighted.

“Oh!” she purred. “He really _is_ your darling boy! Well, this changes things! I was just going to teach you all a rather violent lesson about interfering with a goddess’ business, but I’ve thought of a _much_ more entertaining way now! And, thinking about it, I don’t really want to bring down the wrath of the Big G by hurting one of his precious kittens.” She grinned, incisors glinting. “And you will make _such_ a precious kitten!”

She moved forward gracefully and Castiel tightened his grip on the angel blade…well he tried, but failed because he still couldn’t move. Bast lazily waved a hand, and Castiel felt an abrupt plummeting sensation all over his body. All of his skin itched, as though thousands of millions of little needles were tickling him all over. Then, his surroundings suddenly became giant.

On the positive side, he was now able to move again.

“Goddess or no, I am an Angel of the Lord and I will _not_ let you harm Dean Winchester!” he cried furiously.

Except, the noises that left his mouth sounded more along the lines of, “Meow meow meow _meow_ meooow!”

Horrified, Castiel looked down.

The ground was much closer than it had previously been. And, instead of his feet, there were now two soft black paws. He twisted around and yes, sure enough, there was another set of paws, and – oh dear – a fluffy black tail.

“Change me back,” Castiel demanded, though it came out as a hiss. Bast merely chuckled.

“Don’t worry, pet,” she cooed. “You’ll turn back into your own handsome self just as soon as Dean Winchester figures out and accepts a few truths about how he really feels.”

Castiel’s insides coiled together in abject horror. He was going to be a cat forever.

Bast’s chuckle turned into a purring giggle.

“Don’t be so melodramatic!” she laughed. “I’ll make sure your boy takes you home with him, and then all you’ll need to do is stare at him with those big baby blues, and be as adorable as you can be. Which won’t be hard, because, let’s be honest, I’m just _so_ good!” With that, she snapped her fingers and disappeared, leaving the warehouse dark and empty, except for one very disgruntled kitten.

***

Dean frowned at the warehouse that the witch was supposedly using as a hideout. Not that witches usually shouted their presence from the rooftops, but there were usually some signs: a lingering smell of smoke or incense, dried herbs and jars full of random witchy crap…but this warehouse was just…empty. And not ominous, something-bad’s-just-around-the-corner empty, just _empty_. When you’ve been in the business for as long as Dean Winchester has, you begin to develop a kind of sixth sense for that sort of thing. And Dean’s radar just wasn’t blippin’. Until…

“Sammy!” he hissed. “You hear that?” Sam gave him an exasperated look.

“No, what was it?” he asked.

“Like, a kinda squeaky noise…” Dean whispered. “There it is again!” He led Sam to where the noise was coming from, gun cocked, but then…

A tiny (and really cute, if you liked that sort of thing) black kitten was sitting on the floor, tail flicking agitatedly back and forth. As soon as it saw Dean and Sam, it mewled loudly and leapt up, presumably to run towards them, but tripped over its own paws and went tumbling to the floor in an undignified heap. Dean snorted.

“Dude, thought cats were s’posed to be graceful,” he snickered. The furball mewled again, sounding almost indignant. Then, frantically, it began a series of meows and hisses that became progressively more unsatisfied. Finally, it gave up and let out a frustrated yowl.

“Hey, little guy,” Sam said softly, extending his hand towards the kitten, who sniffed at it obligingly. "Who do you belong to, huh? Did someone leave you here?” The kitten mewed again, this time sounding almost like it was affirming Sam’s guess. Sam turned to look pleadingly at Dean, who sighed, knowing what was coming.

“He’ll die if we leave him here, Dean,” Sam said. Dean opened his mouth to refuse (they were _Hunters_ , goddammit, not the cat-rescue-bleeding-hearts-club) but made the mistake of looking at the kitten again. Wide, electric-blue eyes stared back, the expression in them weirdly similar to…

“Fine,” huffed Dean. “But you’re in charge of the litter-box and any litter-box-related activity that happens outside of the litter-box, understand?”

They bundled the kitten (who was shivering by this point) in one of Dean’s many shirt layers, and transported him to the Impala. During the journey, Dean rained down dire threats on both Sam and the kit about what would happen should the cat do anything to the leather interior.

He ignored the almost identical eye-rolls he got from his snotty brother and the cat.

His fears were unfounded, however, and by the time they got back to the bunker, the kitten was sound asleep. Sam grabbed the duffel bags full of the cat supplies that they’d stopped on the way to pick up, leaving Dean to transport their newest bunker-mate inside.

Gingerly, half expecting a nasty scratch, he picked up the kit (still wrapped in his shirt). The kitten blinked sleepily at him, but didn’t protest. Absentmindedly, Dean scritched the top of its head, between the ears. A throaty purr that seemed far too low and gruff to come from such a tiny cat rumbled out. The kitten seemed as surprised as Dean, stopping abruptly and blinking more rapidly before emitting a small mewl, burying its head in Dean’s chest, and going back to sleep.

“Don’t get too attached to that shirt,” warned Dean. “I’m gonna want it back, soon as we’ve introduced you to your new bed. Mm-kay?”

A sleepy squeak of affirmation came from the kit, and Dean mentally shook himself.  “Talkin’ to a dumb animal like it can understand a word I’m sayin’,” he grumbled, careful not to dislodge the sleeping cat. “Next thing you know I’m gonna have gone completely crazy and be monologuing  at the furball.”

***

“…and then he looks at me with those stupid big eyes, and goes,” Dean put on a high pitched mockery of his brother’s voice, “ _Dean, is Cas still not answering your prayers?_ ” Dean let out an angry bark of laughter. “As if I care about that! Cas would’ve told me if he was in the middle of anythin’ dangerous – he’s probably just got more important things to do than me—“ Dean stopped abruptly and blushed. Castiel knew well enough about colloquialisms to understand why, and would have blushed too were it not for the fact that currently such a thing was impossible. He listened as Dean continued his monologue, pacing restlessly.

“Whatever. He obviously doesn’t need us, he’s an _angel_ for chrissakes, it was friggin’ dumb of me to ever think that he might--” here Dean stopped himself again, and sighed angrily, pushing his fingers forcefully through his hair. He grabbed a change of clothes and slammed his way into the bathroom before Castiel quite realised what was happening. Realising that Dean needed some time alone, even from cats, Castiel curled up on one of Dean’s shirts (he rotated through them so that they never lost Dean’s smell) and slipped into a cat-nap, where he had a lovely (if unrealistic) dream about being in his human form again and able to join Dean in the shower.

His happy daydream was interrupted when Dean came back into his room.

Dressed only in a towel.

Cat or no, Castiel could _feel_ a blush rising, and before he even knew it he was on the floor, winding himself around Dean’s bare legs and purring fit too burst.

Dean’s chuckle, and his voice saying, “I thought cats were supposed to hate water!” brought Castiel back to his senses and he tensed, aware of his inappropriate proximity to Dean. It did not matter that Castiel was in the form of a kitten, his mind and conscience (if not all of his instincts) were still his own, and Dean had not consented to be nearly naked in front of Castiel. As much as Castiel might wish for that scenario to be realised, now was decidedly not the time. Hurriedly, he retreated back to his spot on top of the dresser. Dean regarded him with a slightly bemused, yet indulgent expression.

“You’re one weird furball,” he mused. “I swear, sometimes you can out-Cas Cas. When he comes back, I’ll have to introduce--” he cut off, and Castiel saw the walls go back up behind Dean’s eyes, saw the bitter, worried expression descend. “ _If_ he ever comes back,” Dean muttered. He spoke no more after that, just got ready for bed and switched the light off without the usual routine of reading a bit, listening to music, and bidding Castiel goodnight. Castiel wished for mothing more than to be able to provide Dean with comfort and reassurance, showering him with the kind of adoring support that had been all to scarce in his life.

But Castiel was just a cat, so instead he cursed the name of Bast, and settled in to watch over Dean’s sleep, just as he always did.

***

Castiel had been a cat for two-and-a-half weeks, and he was incredibly sick of it. Granted, there were certain perks: he was warmer, safer and more comfortable than he had ever been in his human form, and he was able to be closer and more intimate with Dean than ever before, even if it wasn’t the type of intimacy that he longed for.

But Castiel _missed_ his human form. He missed his trench-coat and his powers, but mostly he missed interacting with the Winchesters. He missed the intricate conversations with Sam, who was always so eager to learn, and he _yearned_ to once again be on an equal footing with Dean, to be in a position to provide help and support to him.

Castiel missed _Dean_ , even though he currently spent most of his days (and nights) in the same room as him. It just wasn’t the same.

One particular day, Castiel was sunning himself in his favourite spot on Dean’s bed when the man himself burst in, cursing to himself.

“Where the _Hell_ is he?” Dean ranted. “It’s been _weeks_ and he couldn’t even spare a minute, just one, to turn up and say, `Hey guys, I’m still alive,’ before going off and doing whatever is so damn important that he can’t answer any of my prayers?” Dean sat down next to Castiel and let out a defeated sigh that hurt Castiel to hear.

“Maybe he just doesn’t care,” Dean said morosely. His hand automatically went to stroke gently over Castiel’s ears. Castiel licked at Dean’s fingers and nuzzled into his hand. He was rewarded with a small smile.

“I miss him,” Dean said quietly.

 _I’m right here!_ Castiel thought, but to no avail.

“I need him,” Dean continued. Then his hand stopped moving over Castiel’s fur, and when Castiel looked up at him, his chin was wobbling and his face was open, his expression more vulnerable than Castiel had ever seen it.

“I _love_ him,” Dean whispered, in a tone that sounded too much like despair.

Before Castiel even had time to understand those words, let alone begin processing them, everything became rather muffled, and a luminescent fog descended. Dean immediately jumped up, gun out, eyes scanning the room for any threat. A chuckle seemed to come from all around them, and then a voice which Castiel remembered all too vividly started to speak.

“Oh come now Dean, you don’t need that gun. Put it down, sweetie, I’m just here to talk.” Bast stepped into view, once again looking far too pleased with herself. With a lazy wave of her hand she sent Dean’s gun skittering from his hand, across the floor and under the chest of drawers.

“Who the _Hell_ are you?” Dean asked angrily. Bast’s grin widened.

“Oh, we’ve never met before,” she said airily. Then her eyes fell on Castiel and she gestured towards him. “Your angel and I, on the other hand… _we_ met, when was it, Castiel? Must have been, oh, three weeks ago?”

Dean’s head turned rapidly between Bast and Castiel, an expression of bewilderment on his face that would have been comical were it not for the tenseness of the moment.

“Cas is an _angel,_ not a cat,” Dean said, somewhat frantically. “This is just a stray we picked up--”

“Oooh, let me think, about three weeks ago, in an abandoned warehouse, while looking for a witch?” Bast interrupted. Dean went pale. “Tell me,” continued Bast, “have you ever been reminded of anyone else when you looked at that kitten? Ever thought maybe he could understand every word you were saying? Ever thought he was far too embarrassed whenever you were undressing, or that he was too picky about eating the cat food you gave him?”

Dean looked over at Castiel.

“Cas?” he said, almost nervously. Castiel meowed for all he was worth, leaping around Dean and butting his head into Dean’s arm. Dean seemed almost incapable of speech, staring at Castiel. “Wh… _why?_ ” He finally managed to get out.

“Well, I won’t lie,” Bast replied. “You boys were getting a _leetle_ bit too hot on my trail, even though you thought I was only a _witch_. So, I did a little godly magic to Cassie baby there, to have a bit of fun.” Dean turned back to Castiel.

“You fell for her trap?” he said incredulously.

“To be fair, I was pretending to be you,” Bast said. “ _Everyone_ knows that Castiel comes _whenever_ Dean Winchester calls.” She batted her eyelashes and mimed swooning. Dean blushed, and Bast continued speaking.

“And then when he came, well, it was obvious that he was _utterly_ in love with you Dean, and had _no_ idea what to do about it, poor dear. And, well, he’s just so adorable I just _couldn’t_ resist giving him a helping hand!”

“So you turned him into a _cat_ ,” Dean said slowly.

“Of course!” Bast replied. She suddenly let out a shriek of realisation, and clapped her hands delightedly, therefore dashing Castiel’s cowardly hope that she hadn’t heard what Dean had said to break the spell.

No such luck.

“And do you know what I told him?” Bast said excitedly, looking like a cat who had succeeded with catching the proverbial canary _and_ had somehow gotten cream out of it too.  “I told him that he’d only be turned back into his pretty old self when you, Deanie-beanie, figured out a certain important fact about yourself. And, unless I’m very much mistaken, that is _exactly_ what has just happened here. So, without any further ado…” she snapped her fingers, and Castiel felt the pinpricks over his body again, before looking down and finding himself finally fully restored to bi-pedular glory, and (blessedly) in all of his clothes.

“Perfect!” Bast smiled. Then her voice softened to a purr that was almost a growl; her eyes narrowed into slits, and her smile widened to reveal her sharp incisors. “And do not forget,” she hissed, “that I could have made things _so much worse_ for you. Remember that next time you try to stick your noses into my affairs.” Then, as quickly as it had changed, her demeanour reverted to its previous state. “You two are just adorable! I’m so glad I decided to be merciful just this once! Have fun re-uniting, boys, and remember that I don’t want to see either of you ever again!”

With a flick of her wrist, she and the fog were gone, leaving Castiel and Dean once again alone together in Dean’s room.

They were silent for a long while. Then Dean came and sat down on the bed next to Castiel. But his first words were not the expected ones.

“ _Dude_ ,” he said incredulously. “Was she wearing a _catsuit_?”

“I believe that is the correct term, yes,” Castiel replied, and was rather taken aback when Dean slapped his thigh and started roaring with laughter.

“And…and…” he spluttered, “ it was _leopard print!_ ”

“Dean, I really don’t understand what the Egyptian cat-goddess’ clothing choices have to do with--” But Dean was on a roll.

“And I _swear_ her eyeliner style is called _cat’s eyes!_ An’, an’ she was wearing _kitten heels_!”

As far as Castiel could tell, Dean must have been in some sort of shock. He was making precisely no sense.

But Castiel was selfish, and he was enjoying the open, happy expression on Dean’s face too much to try and stop it.

Eventually, however, Dean’s laughter died away and he turned to look at Castiel with an apprehensive and vulnerable look on his face.

“So,” he began. “I guess…I guess you’re gonna wanna talk about what I said…before.”

“I believe that would be wise,” replied Castiel, solemn expression securely in place to mask the excitement bubbling up inside him.

He must have kept his face too serious, however, because Dean took one look at it and his countenance became shuttered. He set his jaw in the patented I-am-Dean-Winchester-and-if-I-don’t-acknowledge-my-feelings-then-they-can’t-hurt-me  expression that Castiel had come to know so well.

“Whatever, man,” said Dean gruffly. “Just ignore it. Forget about it. Forget about all of it.”

“I can’t do that, Dean,” Castiel said quietly. Once again, Dean was too full of his own self-loathing to let Castiel explain.

“Yeah, I get it, Cas,” Dean said in a hoarse voice. “It’s a sin an’ all, and you can’t be around that kinda thing. Forget it.” He made to get up off the bed, but Castiel grabbed his arm and prevented him from doing so.

“Let me speak. _Please,_ Dean,” he said gently. “First of all, my Father made all of us, my kind and yours, out of love. Do you really think he would condemn us for something that is wrought into our very essence? Nothing pleases Him more than when we love each other. And regardless, Dean, I will only ever leave you if you want me to.”

Throughout this speech, Dean had slowly looked up at Castiel, an expression dawning on his face that he refused to allow to be hope. Now that Castiel had Dean’s full attention, he continued to speak.

“And even if I wanted to, I could never forget you, Dean. How could I forget you, your eyes, which are the purest green in all Creation? How could I forget the way you laugh, and the jokes you tell, and the music you love so much that you sing and dance along with it when you think no-one can see or hear? How could I forget your soul, which is so beautiful it shone like a beacon in the darkest depths of Hell?” He cupped Dean’s face in both hands, looking straight into those beloved eyes. “And for the rest of my existence, I will _never_ forget what you said to me. Do not ask me to forget, Dean Winchester, that you love me, because in the whole of my millennia of existence, _that_ is my most cherished memory. It is _mine_ , and I will not part with it, not even for you. Not when I have loved you through life and death and life again, when I know that my love for you will only ever grow. I love you, Dean Winchester, and I will _never_ forget that.”

All was silent for a moment as they stared at each other. Then Dean lunged at Castiel, catching his lips in a bruising kiss. His lips were a little harder than Castiel had imagined, or perhaps that was just the nature of this kiss. All the misunderstanding, the pining and the doubt and the hurt, all were poured into the kiss and set aflame with the heat of their passion.

After a while Dean needed to be able to breathe, so they broke apart but still held tightly to one another, Dean’s head tucked neatly in the crook of Castiel’s neck.

“You…you were a _cat_ ,” Dean murmured, sounding like he was still trying to get his head around it.

“Yes, I was,” Castiel said patiently, allowing his love a little time to process. Dean was silent for a moment, then said, in a subdued tone,

“I thought…I thought you just weren’t answering me,” he said, the loneliness and rejection he had felt clear in his voice.

“And yet I was there, with you, the whole time,” Castiel reminded him. Dean snorted.

“Yeah, and you watched me comin’ out of the shower, and gettin’ changed…”

“I did rather enjoy that,” Castiel said matter-of-factly. Dean raised his head and looked shyly at Castiel.

“I could… re-create it for you at some point, if ya like,” he said, green eyes twinkling through his lashes. “Y’know, just so you can properly appreciate it this time.”

And sure enough, later that evening when Dean emerged, wrapped in only a towel, water droplets shining like jewels on his golden skin, Castiel sat back against the pillows, raised a very appreciative eyebrow, and uttered a single word before pulling his love to him.

“Mee- _ow._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any one-shot needs that you think I could fulfill for you, please do let me know, either in the comments here or on my tumblr, heckamightygadzooks. Also feel free to come and geek out with me there!
> 
> Please give me any and all feedback, I accept all constructive comments gratefully!


End file.
